What to Expect When You're NOT Expecting
by GarnetMonsoon
Summary: Slight AU. SMHC. Peter reacts differently to the ferry incident, causing a chain reaction in which Tony makes a choice to be more involved in Peter's life. Despite being the mentor, Tony ends up learning a thing or two himself. Divergent from Infinity War/Endgame later on.
1. Empty Space, Cloudy Day

"_For how long?"_

"_Forever."_

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter almost felt like laughing. It had been days since the incident on the ferry, but it just kept playing in his mind over and over again. No matter how hard he tried to focus on other things, he couldn't forget the disappointment in Tony's voice, or the anger that had rolled off him in waves when he stepped out of the suit that day. But no matter what he did, he couldn't shake it. The moment Mr. Stark had said that word, a cold and empty pit settled into Peter's stomach. He was starting to wonder if it would ever go away.

How could one word hurt that much? So much for being a superhero. So much for being strong.

He hated himself for being so weak. He couldn't help the tears that escaped as he told May about losing the "Stark internship," as he had dubbed it. She had tried to comfort him, wrapping her arms around him, her hand running through his hair. She had wanted to ask him more, but she could tell how upset he already was. She knew how much he had idolized Tony Stark – how much Peter had wanted the man to approve of him. So she didn't dare ask more about what had happened. He was already in enough pain.

She thought that in the next few days, he would eventually tell her the whole story. But it never came. Peter never said another word about Tony Stark, or the Avengers, or anything remotely related to them for almost a week now. He hardly ever said anything at all. Saying she was worried would be an understatement. But it wasn't just his quietness that bothered her. She could tell he was keeping something from her. If he were just sad, that, she would understand. But no, this was different. He was home less often, for starters. May would come back from work only to find an empty house. Peter would sometimes come back during dinner time, sometimes he wouldn't come back until almost eight. He knew she hated when he stayed out past dark – with the city they lived in, she was always worried about what could happen. Especially after Ben's death. The first two nights, he had told her that he was at Ned's house doing schoolwork, but when she had called Ned's mother on the third day to speak to Peter, she was shocked to learn that he wasn't there. If Peter's phone hadn't died, she never would have known that he was lying to her. He didn't come back until 8:30 that night, and she was completely frantic.

As soon as he had walked through the door, she had stopped pacing around the living room, whipping her head in his direction. She had demanded to know where he had been, and so he tried to come up with something at least half-truthful. So he tried telling her that they had an extra-long decathlon meeting, team dinner after, and then that he simply went for a walk and lost track of time.

"I'm sorry!" he offered, not sure what else he could say. It wasn't as though he could tell her the truth. Not all of it, at least. The Decathlon meeting had let out at 4:30, and after that, he had started his walk home. But on the way, he spotted a mugging and dodged into an alley to change into his old suit and help the woman whose purse was getting dragged away.

That itself hadn't taken much time, maybe five or ten minutes, tops. But after he had put his suit on, the pit in his stomach seemed to throb somehow, and he found himself sitting on a nearby rooftop for a long time, just staring out at the city and sky. Putting on this suit gave him so many mixed feelings. It hurt to see this one, a pitiful reminder of what he had squandered away in a childish attempt to be a hero. The brightly colored cheap fabric almost seemed to mock him, as if it were saying to him, "You're just a little kid playing dress-up, now." He wanted so badly to be able to believe the voice inside him that said, "No, you're Spider-Man with or without a suit." After all, he had acted as Spider-Man before Tony met him. But once he had gotten the suit Tony built for him, he understood how much of an amateur he really was. He had such a wider range of how to use his skills; it actually could have helped him to be a hero. Because it was made by one – it had been made by someone who understood all the things he stupidly thought he already knew.

He was vaguely reminded of a conversation he'd had with Michelle one day about her art underneath their favorite tree outside during lunch.

She had pulled out a drawing from many years ago, and was discontentedly comparing it one she had drawn just two weeks before. You could tell she had drawn the same thing both times, but the second was clearly more polished. The lines were more fluid, the shading more gradual, and the proportions much better. And while he would never have called the first one bad, it was almost like comparing a stick figure drawn with crayon to a Monet painting.

He understood how she felt now, looking at this suit instead of the other. It was almost embarrassing. But people needed him, so he couldn't just throw it away and pretend that Spider-Man had never existed. He still felt the responsibility to help others that he had explained to Tony the day he had arrived at his apartment to take him to Germany. Sitting around and doing nothing while having the power to do something was just…wrong.

But doing the right thing wasn't always easy. It wasn't easy to put on the old suit and be reminded of his failure, to be reminded of his own inadequacy. But he also felt that he couldn't just tuck it away, never to be used again. His mind never seemed to settle on the matter. By the time he had realized he had been sitting there for nearly an hour and a half, he had continued making his way back to his apartment from the rooftop. But along the way, he encountered a few more incidents, and stopped to help. Nothing out of the usual. A lost child, a flat tire, a petty drug deal. After that, he was so wound up and stressed that he just swung around the buildings for a while, and lost track of time. By the time he realized he needed to head home, it was already late at night. He hadn't realized how quickly the sun would set. He went out of his way to swing back by Delmar's to try and get a sandwich, but they had closed. That had cost him even more time.

"Sorry's not enough, Peter!" She bit out, her hands resting on her hips.

"_Sorry doesn't cut it."_ He flinched at the memory, almost as clear as the day he'd heard it.

"Peter…" she sighed, softening. "I know you're upset about losing the Stark Internship - "

"I really don't want to talk about that right now, Aunt May." He interrupted, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Okay, you don't have to, but you can't keep acting like this!" She let out a harsh sigh, at a loss for how to reach him. "Whatever is on your mind, you can't keep doing this. I need to know where you are after school! I'm worried about you!"

The look on her face made him feel terrible. He had been so caught up in his own pain that he hadn't been thinking about May, the only family he had left…

"I'm sorry, I won't stay out anymore. It won't happen again." He mumbled, not brave enough to look her in the eye. For a while, neither of them said anything.

"I know you don't want to talk," she held up a hand as he opened his mouth to say something. "Let me finish. I know you said you don't want to talk right now, and I won't make you. But I'm here if you want to, okay? About anything."

He nodded, not sure what to say in response. She turned into the kitchen, tidying up what was left from dinner. Seeing as how he hadn't actually eaten dinner, he knew he should be hungry. But he couldn't stomach the thought of eating right now.

"I'm just gonna put this in the fridge, and you can have it later if you want since you already ate." She didn't look up as she spoke, stretching cling wrap over a container and placing dishes in the sink.

"'Kay. Guess I better go do my homework." He made his way down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. With a heavy sigh, he sunk to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. His head made a small thunk as it tipped towards the door behind him.

"I'm such a screw-up…"

Peter woke with a harsh gasp, springing up from his tangled bedsheets. Shaking, he frantically looked about as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Right, of course. He was in his room. _Not_ on the ferry. He let out a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and glanced at the clock. 3:24 a.m.

He flopped back into his pillows, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Sitting up again, he shook his head, trying to stop the scene from replaying in his head again. The sound of the water rushing in. The screaming. The smell of burning metal. The panic that rose up within him as he tried in vain to keep the boat from splitting apart. The feeling that his arms were going to ripped out of socket at any moment but knowing he just couldn't let go.

"_This is stupid,"_ he thought to himself. _"It's over. It's just a dream now."_

So why couldn't he go back to sleep?

Outside, the city was lit up with an amber glow, despite how late it was. But hardly any people were out. Acting on impulse, he climbed out of bed and changed into his suit. As quiet as he could manage, he slid his window open. The night air had always helped clear his mind.

He had only planned to sit for a while, but of course, he spotted an attempted car theft a few blocks away thanks to his enhanced eyesight. "Duty calls," he thought as he webbed his way towards the man with the crowbar. At least someone would benefit from his nightmares.

The thief had been stopped fairly quickly. As soon as Spider-Man had arrived, the man hastily tried to run away. But with a flick of his wrist, Peter was able to paralyze the man by webbing him to the pavement. Per usual, he called the police to pick the criminal up and left before they even arrived, watching the aftermath from his rooftop.

It wasn't anything particularly harrowing, so he had hoped that maybe it would have tired him out. But if anything, it made him even more awake. It was 4:30 now, and the sky was beginning to lighten ever so slightly. He definitely wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight. Maybe he could go over his homework again. Taking one final glance around the area, he climbed back down into his room, careful not to make any sound. He let out a breath of relief once his suit was tucked away and grabbed his backpack.

Spanish class was becoming a bit of a hassle lately. His mind didn't seem to want to pay attention lately, so he sometimes spaced out in class. Being unfamiliar with a language made it a lot easier to ignore what was being said. His other classes weren't as much of a struggle. If he spaced out in them, he could always learn whatever he needed from the textbooks and the internet. So while his grades were fine, he wasn't as engaged as he used to be. It seemed that his teachers were starting to notice this, but none of them said anything yet. As long as he kept his grades up, they couldn't really complain very well, could they? Maybe he'd have a better time if he read ahead for his classes. He certainly had the time, now. Being alone with his thoughts in the quiet was actually _that_ uncomfortable.

May had thought that their conversation last night had gone well. So why did her nephew look so haggard? He shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast, eyes unfocused with dark circles beneath them. His face was slightly pale. He stood in front of the toaster for a few moments before even seeming to realize there was nothing in it.

"Do you want me to make some eggs?" She didn't have to leave for work for 20 minutes, and she had hoped she could do something to help him out. "You look like you could use some energy."

"I guess. Thanks," he said.

Breakfast had been silent, Peter hardly looking up from the blank spot on the table he was staring at. At least he had eaten all his food, she had thought with some satisfaction.

"Are you feeling okay, Peter?" she asked with some hesitancy.

"Hmm?" He seemed to snap out of his trance for a moment. "Yeah, just kind of tired." He pulled out his phone, looking at the screen. "Oh shoot, I gotta go." He slung his backpack over his shoulder and placed his plate in the sink. "Bye!" he called out as he walked out the front door.

"Peter, wait!" She followed him to the doorway, where he turned back to face her.

"Why don't we do something fun this afternoon? Something we haven't done in a while, like maybe have a board game night or something?" She asked with a tentative smile. She couldn't remember the last time she saw him happy.

"Yeah, that'd be great." He tried to ease her mind with a smile of his own, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. She leaned forward, closing the space between them and hugged him briefly.

"Bye-bye, sweetie, have a good day at school!" She seemed to have been cheered up by his effort, smiling more brightly herself. He said goodbye again as he shut the door behind him, heading towards Midtown.

Peter had been about to leave for the day when Mr. Cobbwell asked him to stay behind. He had tried talking to Peter about his recent lack of focus, but Peter politely brushed it off.

After the boy had left, Mr. Cobbwell saw Mrs. Gomez, the Spanish teacher, walking by from the opposite direction. She tried to grab Peter's attention, but he had left before she called out to him. She poked her head into his classroom, inquiring about the boy that just left. They only talked briefly, but she confessed that she had also been worried about Peter. Perhaps it was only nothing, but…

"Mrs. Parker? Hi, this is Mrs. Gomez, one of Peter's teachers…"

Great, now a teacher was on his case, too. _"Nice going, Parker."_ He sighed.

The clouds covering the sky only made his mood that much bleaker. He had tried, _really_ tried, not to make a big deal out of the whole ferry fiasco. After all, how could he explain it to anyone? He couldn't let anyone know who Spider-Man was. So he was trying to act his best as though it had never happened.

But the empty pit in his stomach still wouldn't go away. It was all he could think about. Sometimes he wasn't even really thinking of anything, he was just blank. But there it was, in the back of his mind, never letting up. He balled his fists, shoving them in his jacket pockets as the autumn wind blew around him. It had almost been a week! He had admitted his mistake, knew he couldn't do anything to fix it. He gave the suit back and…

And nothing. Any contact between him and Tony Stark was nonexistent now. Was that it? Did he miss Mr. Stark that much? Or was it that he was embarrassed to have failed his idol so supremely? Was it guilt that people could have been hurt? Was it disappointment in himself?

Did it really matter what the feeling was? He didn't think there was any way he could make it go away. But that just made it hurt all the worse.

Time was moving on, but he felt stuck. What was Mr. Stark thinking now? Did he even think of Peter at all anymore? If he did, it probably wasn't about anything good.

He exhaled deeply through his nostrils, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and the pressure building behind his eyes. Because there was no one to blame for what had happened except himself. So, he didn't really have any right to cry, did he?


	2. Board games, Busybodies, and Bosses

**Sorry it's taken me so long to update, grad school has been crazy! And my mom has been sick lately, so I guess I've been a little preoccupied. I know the story is off to a bit of a slow start, but I felt the need to give background to May and Peter's relationship before delving into Peter and Tony's. As of right now, I have no plans to kill her off. She's not going to be a central character, but in a way, I want to make her a bit of a foil to Tony's character, especially seeing as they are both parental figures to him. Thanks for your continued support!**

Peter unlocked the door to the apartment, taking a deep breath as he walked in. May wouldn't be home from work for about an hour. He glanced around the empty apartment, figuring he would get a head start on his homework. That's usually what he did when he came home. Plus, Aunt May had wanted to spend some time with him, so he figured he should try to maximize whatever time he had left of the day. Even if he didn't really feel like doing anything right now. Settling in front of the coffee table, he sat on the couch and laid his books out in front of him.

Before he became Spider-Man, he used to be unnerved by the quiet of his empty apartment. Now, he welcomed it. In fact, he heard things that he never noticed before: like the ticking of the clock in Aunt May's room, the hum of the refrigerator, or the footsteps of their upstairs neighbors. It may not have been a top-of-the-line living space, but it wasn't cheaply constructed. But because of his new powers, he could hear through the walls that used to block out so many sounds. He could even hear the passing of cars down on the streets below. It was sort of like white noise, and it actually helped him concentrate. It helped him relax. Maybe that was why he fell asleep without noticing.

He awoke with a start to the sound of keys jingling in the lock on the other side of the door.

"_Damn, I didn't get any work done."_

Aunt May greeted him with a strange look. "Hey, sorry I'm a little late today. I - " She seemed to take a closer look at him. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"Huh? No, I just fell asleep for a minute." For some reason, he felt more tired after the nap than before. It must have showed on his face.

"Are you hungry? I'll start dinner." She set her purse and keys down by the door, and made her way to the kitchen. Swiftly, she began taking ingredients out of the refrigerator, and pots from the cupboard above her.

Peter stood up. "Oh, I'll help. What are we making?"

"No, no," she waved him away. "I got this, you finish your homework."

He sat back down.

"I was thinking of making that chicken soup you like so much, how about that?" She looked over at him and she rinsed off the celery.

"Yeah, sure." She must still be worried, he realized. Chicken soup was something she didn't make often, just when he wasn't feeling good. But if he were completely honest with himself, it sounded pretty good right now, so wasn't going to say anything about it.

He found himself able to concentrate for once, and was able to fully focus on his homework while May cooked. Time passed quickly and before he knew it, dinner was ready. Dotingly, May fixed a large bowl for Peter, and then one for herself. As she set them on the table, she called out to him. Her timing was perfect; he had just finished his work for the night.

The silence between them was comfortable, and Peter found himself feeling much more relaxed than he had the past few days. Aunt May always had a way of easing his troubles.

"How was school? Anything happen today?" She asked with interest.

"Nah, same as usual," he replied evenly.

She nodded, twirling her spoon for a bit. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at her nephew from across the table. Her demeanor seemed to change almost imperceptibly.

"You know, I got a call from your teacher today." Her tone was like that of a parent who had caught their child in a lie, which wasn't exactly too far off the mark.

"Oh, right. Yeah Mr. Cobbwell wanted me to hang back for a bit after class, but it wasn't a big deal or anything." He shrugged casually.

"I got a call from Mrs. Gomez." She frowned. "What's this about Mr. Cobbwell?"

Crap! Mrs. Gomez had called? It wasn't exactly a huge surprise to Peter – she did have a reputation for being a bit of a busybody, even if it was well-intended.

"Wait, what did Mrs. Gomez want?"

"She said you've been really spaced-out lately, and that your grade has been slipping."

"Yeah – but, Spanish is really hard!" He sputtered. "My other grades are just fine!"

"Then what did Mr. Cobbwell want with you?"

"I just spaced out a little, like in Mrs. Gomez's class! It's not a big deal!"

"If two of your teachers are concerned about your behavior, then I think it is a big deal!"

"I really don't want to talk about this right now. I'm done eating anyway." He stood up, bringing his near-empty bowl to the sink.

"Peter!" She rose from her seat, following him. With an imploring look, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm worried about you. I just want to help!"

"But I'm _fine_!" He emphasized, stepping to the side. "Nothing is wrong! I'm not on drugs, I'm not smoking or drinking, or anything like that! I'm not sick or hurt!" He spread his arms out.

"Peter, I'm not blind. I can tell something's bothering you!"

He sighed. "Yeah, I'm a little bummed out, okay?" Closing his eyes, he ran his hand down his face. "But I can't really do anything about it. I just… need time or something, I don't know!"

"Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"No!" He began to walk towards his room. "Just leave me alone!" With a slam, he shut the door.

Why was everyone so nosy?

His teachers, his Aunt May. Why did they all insist on knowing every little detail of his life? What good would it do if they knew?

If May really knew the truth behind his internship, he didn't know what he would do. He certainly knew what she would do – go berserk, demand he quit, and ground him for life. Uncle Ben's death had hit her hard, and he knew she was only so protective of him because they were all each other had left. He understood, but he knew he could never agree to that. He could never give up being Spider-Man. So if he couldn't give up being Spider-Man, and he couldn't bear to worry her, then he had to keep it a secret.

But it was all falling apart anyway, wasn't it? Even in trying to protect her, he was still worrying her.

"_I really do suck at this." _He flopped onto his bed, staring at the bunk above. Why did he keep screwing everything up so badly? His eyes traveled to the hidden compartment in the ceiling, the one that hid his Spider-Man suit. Well, even if Peter Parker was a screw-up lately, maybe Spider-Man's luck would be better.

"Peter?" She knocked softly on his door. "I didn't mean to upset you. Come out, let's play a board game like we said. I have your favorite, Clue!" She called out in a sing-songy voice.

But there was no answer.

"Peter? I'm coming in, okay?" She opened the door, only to find an empty room.

The sky outside was dark now, though it had been sunset when he left, so he didn't think much of it. As he swung past a bank, he stopped abruptly. Was the time on that sign correct? It was 9:30 already! How could he have lost track of time like that?

"Damn it! Please don't tell me she noticed, please don't!" He drew his phone out of his pocket, only to see four missed called from Aunt May. How could he have forgotten to take it off silent after school?! As fast as he could, he turned and swung back towards his home. Now he'd really be grounded.

"Sorry," he texted. "Went for a walk. Phone was on silent. Coming home now." Ohhh man, he was dead.

Peter raced to his front door, suit stuffed into his backpack. He stopped. What would he say?

It didn't matter. If he was out any later, she would really kill him. He opened the door with a hammering heart. She was standing right there waiting for him, her arms crossed with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I'm really sorry! I lost track of time." He panted, hoping he looked as sorry as he felt.

A few seconds passed, and she didn't say anything. The air around them seemed thick. May was never the silent type. She would talk his ear off when he was in trouble, maybe take a wooden spoon to his backside when he was younger, even. But he had never seen her like this.

"A-aunt May?" He wrung his hands together, his heart dropping into is stomach.

"I don't even know what to say. I don't know what I should do." The tired sound of her voice broke his heart.

"I'm sorry," He couldn't help it. Tears trailed down his cheeks, but he didn't dare look away from her. "I really didn't mean to be out late, and I just forgot to turn my phone back on after school, and - "

"What more am I supposed to do, Peter?" Now she sounded disappointed _and_ tired. "I tried being patient with you, I've tried to understand. But you just won't let me in."

"May," he croaked, "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to." He furiously wiped the still-falling tears off his cheeks.

"But that's not the point, Peter," she stressed. "It's not just tonight. You keep pushing people away, and you won't let anyone help!"

"I don't know how!" He cried desperately.

"Talk to me!" She stepped closer to him, placing her arms on his shoulders.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he looked down. "I _can't._"

She stepped back, arms at her sides now. "You mean you won't." She waited a few moments, and then with a turn she headed to her own room, closing the door behind her.

Peter rushed into his room, threw his bag down, and curled up on top of his covers. He sobbed brokenly into his pillow until he drifted off into a light slumber.

For the first time in a week, Peter had managed to sleep through the night. It hadn't been a deep sleep, but still. Getting up from his bed with a quiet groan, he made his way to the shower. The argument from last night still weighed heavily on his heart, and he wondered what he would say to May at breakfast.

Turns out he didn't need to think of anything, anyway, because the kitchen was empty save for a note.

"_Peter, _

_I got called into work early, and I might not be home until later tonight. Please don't go anywhere after school. Just stay home. I still want to talk later._

_-Aunt May"_

His throat tightened. He knew it was stupid to feel lonely. After all, May was right. He was the one who pushing people away. Besides, she couldn't exactly ignore her boss and skip work just so that she could go home only to have Peter avoid her. Still, he couldn't help but almost feel abandoned somehow.

Chastising himself for being childish, he made his way out the door. He didn't feel like eating breakfast.

School was the same as usual. At least, the more recent definition of "usual" for Peter, which was dull and boring. His fight with Aunt May had sent him spiraling down to a new low, though. He didn't even pretend to pay attention in class now. When one of his teachers had asked him to answer a question, he had come right out and told her he hadn't been listening. Some of his classmates were giving him worried looks, and even Flash seemed unnerved by his demeanor.

When the lunch bell rang, Ned grabbed his arm and steered him to the now-empty gym.

"Dude. What's going on with you lately? You look like a zombie." Ned craned his neck towards the gym doors, making sure no one else would come in soon.

"Nothing," he replied dumbly, "I just… had a fight with May last night."

"But you've been acting weird for days. Come on, I thought I was your best friend. What's up?" He asked naturally, in an effort to coax Peter into talking.

Peter sighed deeply. He wanted to tell Ned so badly. Ned was probably the only person he would even talk about it with, since Ned knew his identity. But Peter felt like he didn't even have any energy left. Even if he did start talking, he was afraid he would cry.

"Just…not today, Ned. Maybe later."

The boy accepted his answer, though Peter could tell he wasn't really satisfied with it.

"Okay. Well we better hurry before the bell rings again."

With a nod from Peter, the two headed back outside, towards the lunchroom.

May leaned back into her desk chair, closing her eyes. She had finished lunch quickly so that she could make time for this, but did she really want to do it? No. But she would do it, for Peter.

Looking through her phone, she found the number.

"Hello?" A pleasant, feminine voice sounded from the other side. "Mr. Stark's office. May I ask who is calling?"

"Uh, May Parker. Is Mr. Stark available?" She asked nervously.

"No, I'm afraid he's in a meeting right now. Would you like to leave him a message?"

She drummed her fingers on the desk in front of her. She was so tempted to say no, but then, she had already made the call. It wouldn't make sense to drop it here.

"Yes, could you please tell him to call me back?"

"Okay." May could hear the sound of a keyboard clicking from the other line. "And you said your name was May Parker, ma'am?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"No problem! I'll be sure to give him the message. Have a nice day!"

She hung up and glanced at the clock to her left, wondering how long it would take for him to return the call. It was a good idea to tell Peter that she might be late. She hoped the call would come while she was still at work – she didn't think Peter would want her doing this, but she was out of ideas.

It was towards the end of her work shift when he called. May had gotten a head start on next day's work in case of this, so she answered her phone without delay.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Parker!" Well that was a surprise. She hadn't expected Tony himself to call back. "To what do I owe the honor of hearing your beautiful voice?" His smirk was practically audible.

She would have rolled her eyes if she weren't so tense.

"If you happen to have some time, I was wondering if we could talk for a bit. About Peter." She clutched the phone tightly when he paused for a few seconds, not saying anything.

"Sure," he replied easily. "You busy now? I know a little café in the area. How about it?"

"That sounds great, thanks…"


	3. Concerns and Coffee

"Wait, so the kid's Aunt wants to talk to you? What for?" Happy squinted in the rearview mirror, looking back at Tony.

"Beats me," he shrugged.

"Ugh. I thought this whole thing was over," the other man complained. "I'm not gonna have to talk to him or anything, am I? Kid never shuts up."

"Kind of like you?" He quipped with a smirk.

"Ha-hah." He mocked. "Smart-ass…"

"What was that?"

"Oh, you heard me."

Tony rolled his eyes, and turned towards the window, not really looking out. Why did May want to speak with him? She never seemed to like him. Was she angry about him firing Peter? Facing down aliens and terrorists was one thing, but an angry woman always had a special way of scaring Tony. But she didn't sound angry on the phone. She almost sounded…worried, somehow.

The car slowed to a halt. "Well, here we are, boss."

Tony stepped out of the car, taking a look at the outside of the café. It was unusual for the area – a Tudor-style with potted flowers hanging in the windows. But it was tucked away from main roads and didn't get business often. He didn't have many chances to come here, but this was one of his favorite spots because of the privacy.

"I'm gonna go check out that shop over there," Happy called as he walked away.

"Got it. I'll call you when I'm done." Tony scanned the inside of the café, not yet seeing May.

When he walked inside, a small bell rang. "Hi, welcome!" A waitress was cleaning tables. "Just have a seat wherever you'd like, I'll be right there!" She smiled. The rest of the café was empty.

"No rush," he said. "I'm meeting someone, so I've got time." He settled into a small table near the far end of the café. He had a feeling this was going to be a somewhat private conversation. The second he went to check his watch, the bell rang again, and he heard the waitress greet the new customer.

"Oh, you're already here." She made her way to Tony once she spotted him.

He stood to greet her, shaking her hand, ever the suave businessman.

"Thanks for meeting me. I hope this isn't too much of a bother for you." She said quietly.

"Not at all," he replied smoothly. "What's on your mind?"

The café was quiet, only the hum of the espresso machines and a broom sweeping across the floor could be heard. It seemed loud compared to the quietness between them, an unspoken agreement between the two.

"Can I ask you something?" She looked up from the tabletop. "What happened with Peter losing the internship?"

He pursed his lips, not sure of what he should say. "What did Peter tell you?" He countered.

"He won't tell me anything!" She said.

"Well, you know, he's a teenager. They get moody like that." He shrugged. "He'll come around."

"Yeah, I mean, that's true. It's just that…" She let out a sigh.

Tony narrowed his eyebrows, leaning forward slightly.

"I don't know, he's just – he's not himself. I think something's wrong, but…" She trailed off.

"What do you mean?" He asked. An eerie feeling began to rise in the back of his mind.

"So what can I get for you guys today?" The cheery waitress arrived, notepad in hand.

Tony tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically, leaning back in his seat. Why did waitresses always have the worst timing? "Just a black coffee for me," he replied with a brief glance.

"Oh, um, I'll have…a latte." May said, without looking at the menu.

"Okay, I'll be right back!" She made her way back to the counter and began working on their orders. Neither May or Tony seemed to want to resume the conversation until she gave them their drinks. But it gave May time to sort out her thoughts, which she was grateful for.

"He's not himself. At all." She seemed almost transfixed by the steam rising from her cup. "He's out all the time, he doesn't eat as much, I don't think he's sleeping, he doesn't talk at all…"

He took a long sip from his coffee. For any other teenager, it might not cause alarms. But Peter was a different story. He needed more food because of his enhanced metabolism. Less sleep would make that even worse. Going out all the time could just be patrols, but that wasn't exactly a good thing either, especially on less energy levels. And not talking? That was _very_ unusual for Peter.

"I know he probably wouldn't want me even talking to you about this, but I'm worried. I got a call from one of his teachers yesterday. Even they notice something's wrong." She looked at him imploringly, hoping he would have some answer.

But it wasn't his job to clean up after the kid. He'd already done that time and time again. Peter was the one who had messed up, even after Tony had given him chances and tried to teach him. Peter was the one who hadn't wanted to listen or learn. It wasn't his job to look after the kid. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. But a nagging feeling had burrowed into his mind, one that prompted him to dive in deeper, even when the other half of him was screaming to just walk away from it, from him.

"We don't really keep in contact." He said bluntly. "The kid screwed up, we let him go. That simple." He took another sip from his coffee nonchalantly.

"But what _happened_?" She let out a huff. "I just can't imagine Peter doing anything really horrible, he's a good kid! He was, right?" She placed her elbows on the table, cradling her head. "What did I do wrong? What am I doing wrong? Have I missed something? What am I talking about, obviously I'm missing something!" She seemed to be talking to herself more than him.

Tony couldn't help but smile a little, glad she wasn't looking at him. So _this_ is where Peter got his habit of rambling from. He quickly shook away the thought. It didn't matter anymore, did it? Neither of them had anything to do with one another anymore.

May was quiet for a moment, and then picked her head up, looking at him seriously. "He really looked up to you, you know? You've always been his hero."

Oh, damn it. She just_ had_ to say that, didn't she? He felt a stab of pain in his chest. It must have showed, because she continued.

"Look, whatever happened, I think it's just eating him up inside." She took in a deep breath. "I'm not gonna tell you how to run your company – if you don't want him working for you, that's your call. But…could you maybe just…come up with some reason to call him or something? I'm sure if he had the chance to apologize or something, he would feel a little better…" She said.

"…I'll think about it." He said.

She seemed to relax at that, looking a little more hopeful. "Thank you. Again, I'm sorry to call you out for something like this." She said, standing.

"Oh, I'd never pass up a date with my favorite 'Aunt Hottie'." He winked.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I won't keep you any longer." She paused. "At the very least, I want to thank you for giving him the internship in the first place. It was a dream come true for him; I don't think I've ever seen him happier." She smiled sadly.

For once, he found himself speechless. What could he even say to that? Even after she left, he sat at the table for some time, trying to think. But all he was left with was an inexplicable feeling of guilt.

It was already 2:18 a.m. but Tony didn't feel the least bit tired. Ever since he left the café, he had hidden away in his workshop, tinkering with this and that like his life depended on it. He needed to keep doing something – anything to keep his mind busy. Because whenever he stopped, he started thinking about that conversation with May – about Peter.

A circuit shorted and gave him a small shock. "Ow!" He shook his hand.

But all this wasn't really doing much to distract him. The whole time he worked, he could practically feel the kid watching over his shoulder behind him, could just see him trying to keep from bouncing off the walls with excitement. He swore he could almost hear him, too.

"_What are you working on, Mr. Stark?" _

"_Oh wow, that's so cool!" _

"_Well, hey, maybe you could try…"_

If he ever actually brought the kid down here, he'd have a heart attack. Tony would have to tie him to a chair to keep him still! He chuckled to himself.

The silence, the emptiness of the lab rushed into him, and his smile faded. Peter wasn't here, and he never would be.

But…

He should at least check on him, right? Even though the kid wasn't Tony's "intern" anymore, he still should at least do some kind of follow-up, right? Like an exit interview. After all, he was the owner of Stark Industries, the boss. He didn't get all this way in his business to become the kind of lazy boss who cut corners! It was his professional responsibility. Yeah, that's what it was, an exit interview of sorts.

He ran a hand through his hair, now feeling the tiredness he hadn't before. He couldn't exactly go up and just start talking to the kid. He remembered May suggesting he come up with an excuse to see him, but he couldn't think of one no matter how hard he tried.

His eyes roamed around the lab until they fell on one of his newer inventions that he had been developing before the ferry incident. Coincidentally, he was building it with Peter in mind. It wasn't anything very fancy – just a basic surveillance drone with heat sensors, cloaking ability, another parachute (because you can never have too many when it came to Peter), and other little things he thought might be useful for watching the Spiderling. It even had retractable arms capable of grabbing things, and a breathing apparatus that converted water molecules into breathable oxygen, though only for a short time. It was capable of traveling through water, land, and the sky. Custom-made just so that Tony could be sure he always could keep an eye on the boy. He may as well get some use out of it.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., activate SD-04."

"Very well, Mr. Stark."

The machine whirred into the air slowly, making almost no noise. Tony made his way to a computer, pulling up the program he designed to control the drone.

"Ready for instruction, sir."

With a crack of his knuckles, he set to work. At this time of night, Peter would be in bed asleep. But he could use the drone to take a look at the boy, maybe peek around his room a bit. Sure, some people might call it an invasion of privacy. But hey, it's not his fault if the kid leaves his blinds open at night.

As the drone neared Peter's apartment level, he asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to scan for heat signatures and movement. While neither May or Peter would be able to see through the cloaking, Peter did have enhanced hearing. Even though the traffic outside might drown it out, it would be better not to take any chances.

"There is one heat signature. It seems to be an adult female, sleeping." That would be May, then.

"Well where the hell is Peter?"

"Would you like me to scan the rest of the building?"

"No, no. Just go up towards the roof. Maybe we can spot him swinging around the city."

But Tony didn't need to look very far. Peter was right there, just siting on the roof staring out at nothing. Looking closer, he realized the boy was moving slightly. Shivering.

"Okay." he spoke more quietly now even though Peter had no chance of hearing him. "Stay hidden but move so that I can get a look at his face. And zoom in." He wondered if Peter would even see the drone if it were right in front of him, with the cloaking disabled. His eyes were open but unfocused. He was sweating, too.

"What the hell is wrong with him? Is he sick?" His voice now carried an edge of panic.

"My scans indicate no abnormal body temperature; however, his heart rate is slightly elevated."

"So you're saying nothing's wrong with him?"

"It appears so, Mr. Stark."

But there _was_ something wrong. May was right. Not that he had really doubted her, exactly. The truth was that he just didn't want to think about what it would mean if everything she'd said was true. What was he supposed to do? It looked like he was having a mental breakdown – Tony didn't know how to deal with that. He could barely keep a lid on his own mental health.

What should he do now? It wasn't as though he could just approach him. Peter would wonder why he'd sent a drone out to his apartment in the middle of the night. He couldn't admit that he was worried, in part because of his pride, but also because May had wanted him to keep their meeting secret from him. He had a feeling Peter would have a hard time believing that after a week, he spontaneously decided to stalk the boy for no real reason.

"Keep an eye on him. Let me know if any of his vitals change."

Minutes passed, but Peter stayed still. He started to wonder if the boy was somehow sleeping with his eyes open. After nearly half an hour, the boy had begun to slowly stop shivering.

"His heart rate is returning to normal."

"Thank God…" He breathed. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop watching, even if there was nothing physically wrong with him.

After a moment, Peter phased back into awareness, and glanced around the area. Tony felt his own pulse spike as he worried that Peter's enhanced senses would allow him to take notice of the drone.

Tony let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the boy began scaling down the building back towards his window. He climbed in and lay back down in his bed. Tony waited several more minutes.

"Is he sleeping?"

"Yes."

He had an idea now, though it was a risky move. _"Well, I've always been a gambler."_

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., as slowly and quietly as you can, see if he left his window unlocked."

It glided open with ease.

"Alright." He once again lowered his voice, despite the fact that Peter wouldn't hear him. F.R.I.D.A.Y decided not to comment, taking note of his carefully focused expression. He searched the boy's room through the camera, finally settling on his target. "I want you to slip in there and hide one of my tracking discs in one of his shoes. Not where he'll feel or see it though."

With the utmost precision, the drone deployed a small arm, clasping the tracking disc. It slipped in deep underneath the fold of the sneaker next to the tongue, down by the beginning of the laces that people rarely undo. As quietly as it entered, the drone left.

Whew! At least he would know how to keep an eye on the kid without sending out a drone all the time. He wasn't really sure where to go from here. But Peter had a habit of getting way in over his head and going places he shouldn't.

"_It's a start."_ He thought to himself.

Finally, he felt at ease. With one last directive to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to link the tracking data to his phone, he locked the lab up and headed to bed. The image of Peter's peacefully sleeping face was the last thing he remembered before drifting off.


End file.
